


For Her Pleasure (Not His)

by ASwornStark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, F/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:16:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASwornStark/pseuds/ASwornStark
Summary: “Tell me the rules.” He glared at her. Arya sighed, rolling her eyes. “I can't try to give you pleasure. I can't touch you past your shoulders. I can't kiss you,” she said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Gendry/Arya thing. it's not much but I hope you like it!

“What are the rules, Arya?”

 

“This is stupid.”

 

Gendry raised an eyebrow at her, eyes scanning her naked body. She'd gotten into bed with him and shaken him awake lightly. Her hair was pulled over one of her shoulders and her hands clasped over her stomach as she waited for him to shake sleep from his head.

 

“Tell me the rules.” He glared at her.

 

Arya sighed, rolling her eyes. “I can't try to give you pleasure. I can't touch you past your shoulders. I can't kiss you,” she said. She'd said the rules so many times it came out in a bored drone.

 

Gendry nodded, turning to face her fully as she spread her legs for him. He bit his lower lip lightly as he looked down at her cunt. The dark hair on her mound had been trimmed neatly. Gendry wondered if she'd done it herself or…his ears turned pink as he slid down between her legs. He adjusted her position patiently, easing both legs into a bent position as the bottoms of her feet touched the mattress. She liked to move when he did this and the whole point was to pleasure _her_.

 

At his first lick, Arya let loose a squeaking sound that almost made him stop and laugh. She fisted his hair and drew him back down towards her. He didn't mind.

 

“Gendry, fuck,” she hissed.

 

He used the flat of his tongue to lick along her folds fully. He knew that there was a good amount of pressure in his movements and she, in all honesty, could come from enough of this. He closed his lips around her clit anyway, feeling her slick against his chin and moaning against her. The noise made her cry out and clench her fingers hard into his hair at the vibrations it directed perfectly on her clit.

 

When he added his fingers to the mix, she truly began to move. Her hips jerked against him, fucking herself on his single finger and rubbing her cunt along his face in a way that only turned him on more. Arya was a wild young woman and it was hard to believe that she would ever have herself a husband. They continued the rhythm as he added fingers and sucked fervently at her clit. Arya’s hands disappeared from his hair and he looked up at her to find she was cupping her breasts and thumbing her hard nipples as she writhed. She was more beautiful than anyone he'd ever seen. King’s Landing could keep Myrcella Baratheon and Highgarden could keep Margaery Tyrell, for the North had Arya Stark and she was the only woman who looked this good doing something so wanton, primal, and wrong.

 

At least, for him.

 

When she came, her grip returned on his head and he was sure she'd rip the hair straight from his scalp. He preferred that to her screaming the way she did the first night he licked her cunt. They'd almost been caught that night. Her hips rose off the bed, toes curling in the sheets and her head bent so far back he thought she might snap her own neck somehow. When she collapsed beneath him, he immediately rolled back to his side of the bed. He wiped her slick from his chin with the back of his hand and turned himself away from her as he crawled back beneath the blanket.

 

“Gendry,” Arya said. He felt her hand on his shoulder. “Can't I just—”

 

“Go to sleep.” He grimaced at the hard edge in his voice but it was the only way to make her leave him alone.

 

After he heard her fumbling with her britches, she settled in behind him, pressing against his back. He could tell she hadn't put a shirt back on and he was so hard he thought he'd scream. He knew she did it on purpose…

 

She always did it on purpose.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is but have this trash with a fluffy ending.

“Is that your husband?”

 

Arya was startled at the question. Her gaze turned towards a girl of Sansa’s age with hair like the night and little red scars on her neck. She was looking at Arya and pointing towards Gendry, who’d gone to get them a room while Arya walked immediately towards the small dining hall of the inn. The girl was sitting opposite Arya, spooning broth into her mouth slowly.

 

“He works for my uncle.” Beric wouldn't mind that so terribly. “I was visiting my sister.” She couldn’t wait to see Sansa. “He's taking me home.” Winterfell awaits.

 

“Well you ought to watch out before he becomes your husband anyway,” the girl said, tilting her head as she looked him up and down. “Though I can't say I'd mind having someone like that in my bed.”

 

Arya scoffed, “He’s too honourable to touch _me_.”

 

“Mayhaps that’s true,” the girl sighed, raising her eyebrows at Arya. “But I can't imagine his honour could hold against you.”

 

“It has so far,” Arya muttered. She could see that the innkeeper was dealing with a rowdy boarder and Gendry was glancing over at her. He shrugged at her as he waited.

 

There was humour in her voice when she spoke again. “And you wish to change that?”

 

Arya felt her cheeks colour. She didn't even know this girl and yet—that was what helped. From the marks along her skin, Arya had the feeling she was far more experienced than anyone Arya had ever met. She was a stranger who might know how to solve Arya's problem…would it be so terrible to divulge?

 

“I wouldn't… _mind_.”

 

The girl’s smile brightened and Arya felt it was honest. She'd seen whores during her travels but none had ever spoken to her. She hadn't known there were honest whores out there. “You say that honour is his problem? Well, there are other ways to find pleasure that won’t quite damage that. Perhaps you'll wear him down another way.”

 

Arya glanced at Gendry once more, still standing with his arms crossed and brow furrowed. With the money the Brotherhood had given them, both he and Arya were far less starved than before. He was starting to gain back some of his stature and it made Arya’s breath catch.

 

“Tell me.”

 

\---

 

 

 

“What are the rules, Arya?”

 

She glared at him stoutly. She hadn't gotten into bed next to him tonight. Instead, she was standing on his side of the small bed. Her arms were folded across her bare chest as he rubbed his eyes tiredly and sat up. She could see his breeches were already tight as he looked up at her.

 

“Arya?”

 

“Fuck the rules,” she snapped.

 

She shoved his shoulders hard enough that he was trapped against the mattress as she pressed their lips together. He struggled against her hands yet his mouth moved against hers, allowing her access while he tried to get a good grip on her hips. It was easier for her to kiss him if she drew herself onto her knees on either side of his waist, and it was the feel of her centre settling against the front of his breeches that seemed to push him into action.

 

“Arya,” he grunted, detaching their mouths, “get the fuck off me.”

 

“Don't be an idiot.”

 

She yelped when he threw her over onto her side of the bed, scrambling wildly to hold her down before she could try again. Their mouths were close and he noted the hard rise and fall of her breasts and— _Seven Hells_!

 

When she moved her hips to press into his body, he felt himself swell against her. He didn't know whether to jump away from her and lose his leverage or allow her to make him come from her movements. He was favouring the latter idea when she said, “Get on your back.”

 

“I most certainly will not!” Gendry grunted, not at all doubting that he would lose all control of the situation if he did.

 

“Gendry _fucking_ Waters, you lie down right now.”

 

“Told you I wouldn't fuck you,” Gendry panted, gritting his teeth to hold back a groan from Arya’s insistent pace.

 

“You're hard and I'm interested and…well I wasn't going to _fuck_ you per say.” She craned her neck forward to try to capture his lips but he moved just in time.

 

“Then what is your _grand_ plan, milady—”

 

Her breath hitched at the heavy feel of his cock against her cunt. She longed for him to unlace his breeches and bury himself inside her and she almost told him so. She shook her head. There wasn’t even a chance of that at the moment.

 

“Your mouth has been more than sufficient for me—I can do the same,” she murmured.

 

“That's not proper.”

 

“You've had your mouth on my cunt and you say _that's_ proper?” Arya snapped.

 

“I'm only trying to help you! You've no reason to do the same.” His eyes didn't meet hers at the words.

 

“How can you say that when you're the only man I've—” she stopped, not knowing if she should say the words yet. “You're not a whore for me, Gendry. I _want_ to know you're pleasured as well.”

 

When their eyes met again, she could see the surprise in him. His lower lip caught between his teeth in anguish. Arya grew still beneath him and settled back against the mattress, eyes still locked.

 

She took a sharp breath when his lips touched hers, eyes falling shut when she felt his grip on her hands ease. He cupped her cheek with one hand and used the other to support himself. With her own hands free, she touched his chest lightly. He felt strong and warm against her finger tips and the simple contact made him grunt.

 

“Gendry,” Arya said, mouth free as he kissed her cheek and along her jaw. “Please lie down.”

 

She was half worried he'd roll over and go back to sleep but he didn't. Instead he pulled her into his arms and moved them together, pulling her face back against him and gripping her bare waist. She didn't know how long they kissed until his fingers ghosted across her stomach towards her cunt. She caught his wrist and squeezed it lightly, breaking their kiss and biting her lip at the way his mouth tried to follow. She placed his hand on the sheet beside his waist and edged down so that she was hovering over his legs. He made a noise as she unlaced his pants and pulled them down to mid-thigh.

 

She wasn't completely green. She'd known that women could take a man into their mouths. But when the girl, Leena, brought it up, Arya had almost scoffed. She’d always imagined that it was to ease a woman’s pain—not to pleasure the man on the receiving end. Leena laughed when Arya said that.

 

“You don't just put it in there. You suck on it. Most say it's even better than hands.”

 

And of course, Arya hadn't thought of it that way. Gendry had mouthed at her folds so many nights and somehow she hadn't thought she could do the same to him and garner the same reaction. She thought that _she_ was easily pleased.

 

“Oh, of course not. Men are the easy ones. It takes far more effort for them to please me than the other way around.”

 

“Arya!” Gendry’s voice made her jump. She looked up at him wondrously. His hands were fisted in the sheets and his eyes were blown wide. All she’d done was wrap her hand around him loosely. She sealed her lips around the head of his cock, watching as his shoulders fell back onto the pillows. His arms were strained, making him look like he was holding back the urge to move. It looked like it hurt.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“I’m—fine,” he groaned.

 

She returned to his cock, licking her tongue across the slit lightly to sate her curiosity about his taste before doing as Leena had instructed and breathing deeply. She slid down an extra inch and already felt the overwhelming feeling of breathlessness. She almost gagged but pulled herself up in time to avoid it. Gendry didn’t seem to notice, head tilted towards the roof and eyes closed tightly. Arya pushed herself to keep going, taking him slowly, bobbing her head up and down and holding back coughs to keep him from stopping her. She didn’t mind the challenge, honestly. She sort of enjoyed it. Each time Gendry made a noise, it made her feel powerful.

 

It didn’t take him very long before he was ready to spill. She was surprised when he told her before she remembered Leena’s words. _Men are the easy ones._ She was also quite sure Gendry didn’t get off half as much as her, so she couldn’t judge.

 

When he did come, he warned her off quickly before spurting across his chest. She stroked her thumb along his shaft as he spent, watching how his hips bucked against nothing. She bit her lip as she imagined him bucking up _into her_ and shivered. She’d save that for another day—wait for his honour to slip a bit more.

 

She expected to be chastised for the whole ordeal. That was Gendry’s style, anyway. Ever since they’d been among the Brotherhood he was full of lectures. Instead, he cleaned himself silently. When he returned to the bed, he flipped her onto her back and rather than climbing between her legs like he often did, he pressed his warm chest against her side and rubbed her clit with two fingers. Arya was completely fine with this arrangement. She was more than happy to let him swallow her moans with warm kisses. His mouth was rougher now, breathing ragged while he fingered her until she thought she was seeing heaven. It hadn’t _ever_ felt this good. She came with barely a whimper, hand coming up to hold his face while she shook violently. When they broke apart, his brow was furrowed.

 

Arya groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re guilty already.”

 

“I… we shouldn’t have done this. I didn’t need you to help me, I’ve done it myself before.”

 

She got off the bed to slip back into her clothes. “What is it with you? When I met you, you didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought. How did you get so _fucking_ honourable?”

 

“I’ve got no honour,” Gendry snapped, “maybe I’d like a bit of sanity, is all.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

He glared at her as he tied the laces on his britches tight. He pulled his shirt on too for good measure.

 

“I’m taking you back to your brother and sister, and you can be damned sure they’re going to marry you off to some stupid lord far away and mayhaps they’ll do me the kindness of keeping me in the forges and that’s _fine.”_ He rounded the bed to tower over her as he spoke, waving a finger at her in rage.

 

“You don’t mean that,” she said quietly. She couldn’t imagine leaving him in the forge. She couldn't imagine leaving him anywhere. “Jon would never force me to.”

 

He growled in frustration. “You’re just about the most selfish person I’ve ever met, y’know that? Always going on about how you’re not a lady and you were meant to be common—but you like to push your weight around, don’t you Arya?”

 

“I didn't mean to push you.”

 

_“Then what did you mean to do?”_

 

“I…I—”

 

And then her face crumpled. He watched as her legs buckled and she sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. He knew he’d stepped in it then and yet…yet he was still upset.

 

“Don’t you cry right now. You don’t get to make me feel bad until you tell me the truth!”

 

“I don’t _want_ to marry a lord. I’m—” she hiccupped, “I’m not going to. I wanted to—be with you.”

 

“Neither you, nor I can decide that.”

 

“Yes I fucking can!” she sobbed harder. “Jon won’t make me and Sansa can’t either and I thought that you just didn’t want to do this because we weren’t yet married but now I see. I see you don’t want me and I’m _sorry.”_

“You— _what?”_

 

She wiped her eyes, trying to breathe while he sank to his knees at her feet. Whatever he’d been expecting it wasn’t this. She wasn’t one to get attached. He’d never thought he’d be the one she’d _get_ attached to.  

 

“You’re an idiot,” he murmured, touching her wrists. He laughed when her eyes widened. “Not used to hearing that, are you? Why do you think I kissed you? What’s a kiss supposed to mean, milady _?”_

 

“Fuck you,” she said, voice weak.

 

“I care for you, Arya. I’ve cared for you since we were children.”

 

She made a face, “I was ten years old and looked like a boy.”

 

“Well I didn't care for you like _that,_ stupid. But then we got older and I did start to—to love you. And the older we got the more I started to remember that you’re Arya Stark of Winterfell and I’m Gendry Waters of nowhere-at-all and I couldn’t…it wasn’t my place to love you.” He pulled her hands away from her sullen face and wrapped his fingers in hers. “I know you think your brother wouldn’t make you marry. For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’ll want to. But all the same, he’s a King in the North with a need for allies.”

 

“My brother can find his allies another way,” she insisted.

 

“Oh, can he?” His smile widened when she smacked his chest.

 

“Take me home and I’ll show you,” she said, “You’ve not met my brother but when you do you’ll understand. If you _do_ care for me, Jon won’t mind it.”

 

Gendry sucked in a breath. It sounded good. Sounded…quite perfect, really. “And you believe that?”

 

“O’course I do. I said it, didn’t I?”

 

“You believe that when we return to Winterfell your brother will see to it that we get married?”

 

_“I just said—!”_

He tackled her to the bed, hearing a soft cry just as his mouth met hers. He could taste her tears when he kissed her cheeks and he pulled her close to him without resistance. When they climbed back into bed together the sun was already rising and he knew they would be exhausted on the road today.

 

She huddled next to him, one leg thrown over both of his. He stroked her hair as they attempted to catch a little bit of sleep.

 

“I love you,” Gendry said, yawning.

 

“Yeah, shut up,” Arya said, voice dreamy like she was close to unconsciousness. “I love you too, stupid bull.”


End file.
